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Scroll to the bottom to see a gallery of photos from the trip.

I have always tried to heed the call to adventure. So when I got an invitation to explore Alaska, I had to go.

The call came from an old friend. Her name is Ali. We had met in college, but I hadn’t heard from her in more than seven years.

I had no idea of whom she had become. But I remembered her as a fierce woman of spirit who loved living life to the fullest. She had helped me through some rough times, including a destructive relationship, student loan debt and waitressing woes. She had always listened, always known when something was wrong.

With more than 4,000 miles between us, she still had that gift.

Her Facebook message read: It has been forever, hasn’t it? I hope you are doing well, though your timeline posts seem to say you may be in need of a change. If you need to get away for a little while, you will always be welcome at my house! Now is a good time of year to visit Alaska!

Portage Lake was calm on the return kayak trip.(Photo: Ali Sacks)

On September 4, I disembarked for a trip that changed my life.

Ali picked me up that night from the airport in Anchorage. On the car ride back to her home in what locals call “The Hillside”— the windswept incline bordering Chugach State Park— I learned that in the the past seven years she had started work in the oil and engineering industry, found a partner for the long haul and gotten a dog.

So much had changed. And yet, so much was still the same. She was still the adventurous, literature loving friend I remembered, and we picked up our friendship seamlessly from where we had left off.

Over the next eight days, we went hiking and berry picking in Hatcher’s Pass, Turnagain Arm, Girdwood and Portage. She taught me how to identify edible mushrooms and which native plants could be used to stop bleeding or made into medicine. I also learned how to preserve food for the winter: We canned 20 jars of blueberry jam from the berries we had picked.

Canning blueberries we picked.(Photo: Lex Talamo)

At night, I curled up with a novel by an Alaskan author I had picked up from Ali's favorite used bookstore. I read about the mummification of Aleutian whale hunters, viewed by the ancient natives as powerful beings with supernatural powers, and about the curse that both empowered and cursed those who dared to gain that power for themselves.

There are places that can remake you. You just have to find the right place, the author wrote. Of course, you never recognize these places while you’re in them. It’s only after you’ve made it across, made it out, that you can see the change, because it’s only in looking back that you can see what you were.

The next day, Ali decided we had to figure out exactly how we had met. While listening to a record on her old-fashioned Victrola, we pulled up our transcripts from Penn State University, where we had both attended undergrad. We had taken exactly one literature class together, The American Renaissance — which was ironic, since she was helping me into rebirth of my own.

With Ali Sacks, outside of Portage(Photo: Lex Talamo)

Mystery solved, we headed to REI outfitters and picked up two single-person kayaks. The next morning dawned crisp and slightly sunny, a drastic change from the high winds and heavy rains that had misted Hillside, so we decided to risk it and head out for an overnight camping trip.

Ali packed camping gear and then outfitted me in water-wicking layers. We drove to Portage, unloaded the kayaks and packed our minimal supplies into dry bags.

It would take at least two hours to get to the opposite shore. Ali told me the water was so cold that it could stop my heart within minutes or hours— though that wasn't a sure thing— and advised me not to tip my kayak.

Portage Lake, where we kayaked(Photo: Lex Talamo)

She told me, "You can do this."

I survived the trip out across Portage Lake, where the wind chopped the waves into three foot swells. My fear was lost in awe at the sheer beauty of the craggy mountains and cascading waterfalls, the rhythm of the waves against my kayak and Ali’s confidence in me.

We beached our kayaks on the black sand shore, set up camp and hiked to the waterfall. I fell asleep that night in front of the Portage Glacier, whose “calving” sounded like gunshots and left little chunks of blue-white ice floating in the water the next morning.

Camping across from the Portage Glacier(Photo: Lex Talamo)

The wind died down and we were blessed with another sunny day for the return trip to Hillside. We warmed up in town with organic tea and checked out an art exhibit by a film-making fashion designer about female stereotypes— and breaking them.

Five years earlier, the artist had started with an idea, packed a giant dress into her Subaru and left Seattle to make her vision come true. She said the decision to leave for Alaska, outcome unknown, was scary and risky.

“However, what happened could not have been realized without such risk,” she told me. “Alaska is a special place. A place that encourages strength and pushing boundaries.”

Sunset in Hillside, Anchorage(Photo: Lex Talamo)

Alaska taught me many lessons in eight short days: to cultivate friendships with people who believe in and inspire you, to take risks, to believe in yourself and to always push yourself to do the things you fear or that seem impossible.

Alaska also taught me that we create our own reality— and that change can happen quickly, so long as we remember our own strengths and keep in mind who we want to become.